


Fill Her (With Words of Hope For Her People)

by sweetheart35



Category: Black Panther (2018), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study?, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Shuri-centric, other characters get a mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 09:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18192914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetheart35/pseuds/sweetheart35
Summary: Okoye delivers the news.Shuri had watched the two guards who had been assigned to guard her and the android disintegrate into dust in front of her. She had watched, frozen, as one had sighed before closing his eyes and the other turn to her and say “Princess -“ and take a step towards her before he simply collapsed, dust scattered across the floor.Shuri is a genius, the head of Wakanda’s research and development division and their outreach program but she cannot fathom what is happening.





	Fill Her (With Words of Hope For Her People)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from 'Unfinished Prayer' by Napo Masheane.

Okoye delivers the news.

Shuri had watched the two guards who had been assigned to guard her and the android disintegrate into dust in front of her. She had watched, frozen, as one had sighed before closing his eyes and the other turn to her and say “Princess -“ and take a step towards her before he simply collapsed, dust scattered across the floor.

 Shuri is a genius, the head of Wakanda’s research and development division and their outreach program but she cannot fathom _what is happening._

 She skirts the remains, because what else could they be, and takes off down the hall. Her mother would know. This was one of those things that if Shuri did not know, her mother would and she would explain it and everything would be _fine -_

 Okoye catches her in the main entrance. She is breathing heavily, eyes wide and panicked. Her grip on Shuri’s arm is bruising but real and not turning to dust like so many had right in front of Shuri as she reached out to grab them, to anchor them, only to have her hands grasp on ash and empty air as her _people_ collapsed around her like they’d never existed.

 “Princess!” Okoye’s voice is harsh and frightened and that scares Shuri more than anything. Okoye does not get frightened. She is unflappable and strong and brave. _“Princess. You are alive.”_

 They stand there in the main hall, both breathing heavily, Okoye gripping her like she’d never let go and Shuri usually chafes at such a touch, but it’s _solid_ and _real_ and Shuri needs it like she needs air.

 “Okoye.” Shuri’s voice is shaking and she teaches up to grab Okoye’s arm with her free hand. “What happened?” Okoye doesn’t say anything, just looks at her, and it occurs to Shuri that Okoye might not have any more of an idea of what’s happening than Shuri and she was out there. Rogers had briefed them, of course he had, but this is far past what Shuri had imagined. Shuri’s grip on the general’s arm tightens as something else occurs to her. “General. Okoye. _Where is T’Challa?”_

“Omnye…” Okoye trails off, clenching her jaw, blinking rapidly, a sheen of tears in her eyes and Shuri feels her world _shatter._

“No,” she whispers. “Okoye. Hayi, Okoye, ndiyacela.”

T’Challa had always been there. He had always come looking for her. When she had gotten lost in the palace when she was a child and had snuck out past her nanny after bedtime, T’Challa had found her down near the supply rooms, crying because she’d gotten lost. When Shuri had gotten teased by some of the bigger children for being too smart, their father refusing to let their status grant them special treatment, T’Challa had tried to fight them for her. The fact they were also bigger than him hadn’t mattered and T’Challa had gotten soundly trounced but he had _tried_. When Shuri had broken a priceless artifact, T’Challa had taken the blame. When Killmonger had been about to murder her…

T’Challa had always protected her and Okoye said he was gone and Shuri doesn’t think he’ll be coming back this time.

“I’m sorry,” Okoye whispers. “The Mad Titan, _Thanos-“_ She spits the monster’s name “Defeated the witch and took the stone. The king -“ She pauses to take in a deep breath. “- was...he was brave to the last.”

A sob escapes Shuri and Okoye pulls her close. The two of them cling to each other tightly for a moment and if Shuri feels Okoye’s shoulders shake, she’ll never tell.

\--

Her mother is gone.

Shuri has never felt more alone in her life. Her father, dead before his time _(“Shuri, so clever and yet so silly. If I died then of course it was my time, child. You simply were not ready; but few ever are.”)_ , her brother, now lost to her a second time and finally her mother. Okoye and Shuri had hurried to her quarters. Whatever had happened was over and it’s almost worse now because Shuri can hear her people calling for their loved ones. She can hear the wails of those who lost family before their eyes and in between all of that she can hear this awful, echoing _silence._

Silence where before there was the sound of warriors training. Silence where before children’s laughter had echoed. Couples, old and new, who argued with each other before making up. She heard music from the street performers and chatter that rose and fell in volume. All those sign of life and happiness and Wakanda are just…gone.

A guard meets them at the door, weeping, grief and self-recrimination written all over his face. Shuri leaves Okoye to deal with him, steeling herself before stepping through the door into the room the queen had shared with her husband.

The bed is made, Shuri and T’Challa long past the ages where they used to come in and bounce on the bed while their mother got ready for an event they had been deemed to young to attend. There is a book sitting on the bedside table because while her mother used the sleek tablets, every now and then she preferred a solid book to hold in her hands. The jewelry box sits on the dresser. Ceremonial garb for T’Challa and Nakia’s upcoming wedding was draped over a mannequin in the corner in between fittings. Sunlight filters through the large windows and when she breathes in, Shuri can smell the floral of her perfume in the air.  

And scattered across the rug and the floor are the ashes of her mother.

“Umama,” Shuri whispers. Her breath hitches in her throat and she sniffles and then she just starts sobbing. Her fists are clenched by her sides, shoulders shaking and Shuri weeps because she lost almost everything she loves in one fell swoop and right now, she doesn’t know what to do.

There are hands on her shoulders, indescribably gentle, and Shuri is turned and tucked into Okoye’s shoulder. The older woman holds her tightly and Shuri clings back just as tightly, her tears staining the leather in Okoye’s uniform.

“Princess,” Okoye says gently after a moment, pushing Shuri back, keeping her hands on Shuri’s shoulders. “A great loss was suffered here. But your people _need you_. They will look to you for guidance.”

“I can’t,” whispers Shuri. She can’t be the rock for her people. She was never meant to lead. She was content to support T’Challa and to help create new ways to safeguard and advance Wakanda. People followed T’Challa, looked to him for guidance, the same way they had looked to her father and grandfather, Shuri included. How could she lead them when she didn’t have any answers herself? She looks at Okoye. “Okoye, I _can’t._ I don’t know _how.”_

Okoye looks at her for a long moment and abruptly Shuri feels shame hot all over her body because how can she say she can’t when Okoye and countless Wakandans and the Rogues, when _T’Challa-_

But Okoye simply holds her shoulders tighter and says, “You can. Whether you feel you are able or not, you are Shuri of the Panther Clan, Princess of Wakanda. Weakness is not in your body. You _can_ and you _will._ And on the days you feel you cannot go any further, I will be there for you, as I was for your brother.”

The words ground her and Shuri takes a shaky breath. She clasps Okoye’s wrist briefly before stepping back and looking Okoye directly in the eyes. Her cheeks are still wet with tears and she’s trembling just a little, but her voice is steady and strong when she crosses her arms over her chest and says, “Wakanda forever.”

“Wakanda forever,” Okoye says back, a fierce light in her eyes.

—

They hold a memorial service for the fallen. There are simply too many to do otherwise.

Thanos had wanted to wipe out half the population.

He had taken more than that.

Wakandans who had relied on caregivers. Pregnant mothers who disappeared and left behind the children they had been carrying. Pregnant mothers who were no longer pregnant. Wakanda’s public transportation was by and large automatic, but some operations were too delicate to be left to computers. People suffered as a result. A commercial airliner came down on the outskirts of Wakanda. Shuri so far hasn’t been able to establish contact with the airline’s control tower.

There were some of the War Dogs posted around the globe that had yet to check in. The students studying abroad were good about keeping up their own network and keeping in touch with each other. There was about a third of them who still hadn’t checked in, either unable to make contact or they were gone completely. Shuri couldn’t spare anyone to check on them but in the name of Bast, she was trying. The War Dogs could look after themselves until someone made their way to them. The civilians were more of a concern.

The rest of the world had ground to a halt. Nearly half of the UN representatives, including their own, were gone. Ross had sent blustering messages to nearly to every country, but few, if any, had responded to him.

Tony Stark was still missing and Shuri saw that fact weighing on Colonel Rhodes and Captain Rogers every day. There could be a chance he was still alive, but based on what Dr. Banner had told her and the fact Thanos had shown up in Wakanda at all told Shuri all she needed to know.

Sometimes Shuri hated Captain Rogers for bringing the fight to Wakanda.

Other times she was grateful Wakanda had had the opportunity to fight for themselves.

\--

Shuri handles her mother’s remains herself. She carefully sweeps the ash into an urn blessed by Jabulani, murmuring a prayer for her spirit all the while. When she’s done, Shuri carefully selects a few pieces of her mother’s favorite jewelry to be buried with her remains. Okoye selected a few of T’Challa’s most treasured items.

It’s the closest thing they have to body for him.

\--

The coronation takes place two days after the memorial service. Jabulani stands tall and steady in the water. Outwardly, Shuri looks calm but inside her stomach is twisting itself into enough knots to sail a ship.

Jabulani had been gentle but insistent when he’d told her they needed to have the coronation ceremony and soon. Traditionally, Shuri would have been given more time to meditate and prepare. In the aftermath of what had been dubbed The Snap, Jabulani had counseled it would give the people a sense of stability and something to celebrate, however bittersweet it may be. T’Challa had not been king very long, after all, and he had been well loved.

Jabulani is only thirty four years old and this was his first coronation ceremony. Shuri is eighteen years old and had never thought she would see herself in this position.

Shuri wonders if he was just as terrified as she was. Maybe not. He’d been training for this day and she had not.

The cliffs are just as full as they had been when T’Challa had been named King. The people are singing just as loudly for her as they had been for T’Challa, even if there is a slightly more mournful sound to them. The biggest difference, she notes, is the Jabari tribe adding in their own more guttural chants and songs. Shuri closes her eyes and tips her head back slightly, letting the sunlight and singing wash over her. Her hands grip the sword and shield tightly.

“I, Jabulani, son of Luan, give to you Princess Shuri, the Black Panther!” Shuri raises her arms to their cheers before dropping to one knee before them. _(“Why must you kneel if you are king, Baba?” “Because, Shuri, a king, nor queen, cannot lead their people if they are not willing to serve them. If one leads with pride and arrogance, they lead only to ruin.”)_

There is no heart shaped herb to grant Shuri the strength of the Black Panther. She would carry the title, but it would have to be with her own strength and that cannot be stripped by anyone’s will but her own.

“Victory by ritual combat comes by yield or death!” Jabulani’s voice rings out over the gathered tribes and Shuri’s breath quickens. She has been taught how to fight, she _can_ fight, but she knows she is not a warrior. “If any tribe now wishes to put forth a warrior, I now offer a path to the throne.”

Shuri stands and gazes out evenly at the crowd. This is the true test. It wasn’t the fight, necessarily. If a tribe put forth a warrior to fight her it was tantamount to saying they did not trust her to be able to safeguard Wakanda’s future. Even if Shuri was able to defeat them, it would cause difficulties later on. She meets each of the of the tribe leaders’ gazes.

“The Merchant Tribe will not challenge today,” Kaya announces. Shuri breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Kaya is the oldest tribe leader by far and the others will more than likely follow her lead. W’Kabi has difficulty meeting her gaze as he declares the Border Tribe will not challenge. Mandla looks tired without Nakia by his side. Imka is only a few years older than Shuri and now bears the weight of the Mining Tribe on her shoulders.

Shuri finally forces herself to look at M’Baku.

He is the unknown factor. Until T’Challa’s coronation she had never seen the Jabari Tribe. They had been part of the tall tales they’d heard as children growing up; mind your elders or the Jabari will come and eat you. M’Baku had held disdain for her and her science. She had been frustrated by his traditional views and, a part of her is still ashamed to admit, she had been frightened of his wild appearance. He and T’Challa had struck a friendship and they an understanding, but that was no guarantee of loyalty here and should M’Baku challenge her for the throne Shuri would lose. It was not a question.

M’Baku’s face is expressionless as he steps forward down off the rock and wades towards her. The Dora Milaje tense up but he has made no declaration one way or another and it is not their place to intervene here.

He reaches her, his form towering over hers and Shuri tilts her head up defiantly. He is the superior warrior but she refuses to be intimidated. What looks like a ghost of a smile flashes across his face. Every eye is fixed on them. Shuri isn’t breathing.

“The Jabari Tribe will not challenge today,” M’Baku declares, his voice ringing out over the assembly. Then he goes to one knee in front of her, bowing his head. Shuri’s eyes widen. She hears Jabulani breathe in sharply. “The Jabari Tribe, from this day onward, swears loyalty to the Panther Tribe.” He looks up at Shuri and when he speaks again his voice is quieter, only meant for her ears. “We were wrong to isolate ourselves from the rest of Wakanda. You will always have an ally in us, Princess. I regret only that I waited so long to make the same vow to King T’Challa.”

“The Panther Tribe accepts and acknowledges, Lord M’Baku,” Shuri responds. She’s not sure if it’s the right response, but M’Baku accepts it and returns to his tribe. She hears Jabulani take a deep breath.

“Is there any member of royal blood who wishes to challenge for the throne?” He asks. It’s almost a cruel question. Shuri stares at the rock where she and her mother had stood before. The silence is deafening. Jabulani waits a beat before saying, “I now present to you, Queen Shuri, the Black Panther.”

The crowd cheers. Shuri bows her head and Jabulani to place the necklace over her head. When she lifts her head Jabulani looks relieved.

“You did very well, Jabulani,” she says quietly, tone teasing. “You looked like a hare caught in a trap for most of the ceremony but I do not think anyone noticed.”

“My queen, if I looked like a trapped rabbit it is nothing compared to how you looked,” Jabulani retorted, smiling slightly. Shuri can’t help the laugh that bubbles up out of her and she smiles. It fades slightly as she looks around at her people. Okoye looks proud and Shuri blinks back tears that sting at her eyes. Jabulani squeezes her elbow.

“Jabulani,” Shuri says quietly. “I know the shamans and I have clashed before.” Shuri had very little use for tradition. She believed, she had seen too much not to believe, but she moved forward in leaps and bounds, forgetting sometimes that others could not see things the same way she did and needed to move at a much slower pace. For her people, she would follow tradition. For herself, she thought Bast would understand if she didn’t not practice everything exactly. “But I will need your guidance and your help.”

“Queen Shuri,” Jabulani says, his voice just as quiet. “I will be with you every step of the way if you will let me. I fear I am not as wise as Zuri was but I will do my best to help guide you. In asking for help, you are already acting wisely. Myself and General Okoye will support you. I trust you will continue to seek wise counsel, even if it comes from someplace unexpected.”

“Thank you.” Shuri pulls back from him, faces her people and crosses her arms over her chest. “Wakanda forever!”

Their echoing cry is both heartbreaking and wonderful.

\--

“This will not work, Jabulani,” Shuri says. She’s staring the pit where she’s meant to lay. Traditionally to have the powers of the Black Panther restores and to visit the ancestral realm. “We do not have the heart shaped herb, there is no point to this.” The words taste bitter in her mouth. The opportunity to see her family is _right there_ but also out of reach.

“Perhaps not,” Jabulani agrees easily. The acolytes are standing quietly by the walls. “But you are a scientist, Queen Shuri. We have never done it without the heart shaped herb so it may still work. Think of it like an experiment, but more spiritual.”

“There is no way to monitor my body and see the physiological responses to being buried and no baseline to compare them even if there was,” Shuri objects. She suspects Jabulani is rolling his eyes but she can’t see him.

“Then if this does not work then it will be a waste of time for future monarchs, but will keep the tradition alive,” Jabulani says patiently. “If you would.”

Shuri sighs but lays down obediently in the pit. The sand is cool against her skin and the grains are fine. At least it won’t be uncomfortable.

Jabulani crouches down and presses two fingers to her forehead. “Praise the ancestors,” he murmurs. The acolytes move forward and begin shoveling the sand over her body. Shuri closes her eyes and forces herself to relax.

If anyone were to ask Shuri what exactly, if anything, she experienced she wouldn’t be able to describe it to them. But when she sits up an indeterminate amount of time later, sand sliding off her, she feels centered in a way she hasn’t felt in over a week.

Jabulani can tell almost instantly and he’s almost breathless with excitement when he helps her to her feet.

“There was something, then?” He asks, voice hushed and reverent.

“Yes,” Shuri breathes. She feels as though something is surrounding her. She thinks it might be her family. She can’t gather any words of wisdom from her ancestors but she can feel their strength supporting her.

“Praise the ancestors.” Jabulani’s eyes are wet. “Queen Shuri, you are a marvel.”

“Nonsense, Jabulani,” Shuri murmurs. “I am merely blessed.”

—

The Rogues are rapidly pardoned. Ross is foaming at the mouth with rage but the UN seems to feel if the Avengers had never been broken up in the first place, perhaps this whole mess could have been prevented.

Ross had tried to intimidate Shuri, use his greater age and experience to try and discredit her when she stepped forward in open support of the Rogues. Okoye, for all her outward calm, had bristled with indignation behind Shuri.

It didn’t matter in the end. Wakanda is in the top twenty for world powers, rapidly shooting into the top ten, and everyone in the room knows it. Ross can no more steamroll over her then he could Great Britain or China. America’s own UN representative, a young man who had taken the place of the previous one, threw his support behind Shuri in a bold move that had Ross turning an interesting shade of puce but ultimately led to him backing down. The other countries had rapidly followed suit. Most of them, Shuri noticed, were new faces, many of them who look exhausted and desperate.

The world will never be the same and the ones who refuse to see that will either be made to or forced to step aside for those who do.

Steve, when presented with the Accords Tony Stark had almost single-handedly bent into something palatable, like he had promised would happen, signs without hesitation. His face is haggard and the lines in his face are deep.

“I should have listened,” he says quietly when Shuri sees them off. “Tony...he tried to warn us. I should have listened.” They’re headed back to the Avengers Compound. Vision’s body was carefully stowed away in the hold. There are no other bodies to send back, but Natasha is carefully cradling a small placard Shuri had created herself. The names of their fallen were painstakingly etched in with a prayer for their rest. Her fingers keep tracing the names over and over even as she stares blankly at the opposite wall.

There is silence between the two of them. Shuri isn’t sure what to say. She doesn’t know the full extent of what happened between Steve and Stark. He had never offered the information and their relationship wasn’t one Shuri felt she was in a position to ask. She doesn’t know the full history of the Avengers. She is not close to them like T’Challa was.

“Good luck, Captain Rogers,” she finally says. There’s no condemnation in her voice. Maybe she should hate him, she thinks. But she is tired and her heart is too broken to hate someone who is hurting as much as she is. Maybe listening to whatever it was Tony Stark had to say would have changed everything and perhaps it would have changed nothing. Shuri is a genius, the smartest person in the world, but this is a question even she can’t answer.

“You as well, Queen Shuri,” he responds and gets on the jet. Shuri watches until the jet is out of sight and then turns to walk back to the palace.

She has work to do.

\--

No one is allowed in Ramonda’s room except Shuri. On the nights she can’t sleep or the rare quiet moments she has to herself or the days she feels like she can’t take another step forward, Shuri will slip into the room, Okoye or T’Yana or another member standing faithfully outside the door, curl up on her mother’s bed and just breathe in the smell of her perfume that still lingers.

_(“I can’t do it, Umama.”_

_“Yes you can,_ _Omncinci. It is hard and you are bearing the burden of an entire nation. But you have the support of your people. You are not alone, even if you cannot always see it.”)_

Shuri doesn’t always necessarily feel stronger after these shorts visits, but they allow her some semblance of peace.

\--

Three months after Shuri’s coronation, she finally breaks down and appoints a UN representative. T’Challa had preferred to handle that aspect himself but Shuri is still managing Wakanda’s outreach programs and their research and development. To try and take on another responsibility as large as that one is not something she’s capable of. Perhaps if she weren’t queen, but it would have been a non-issue then.

Amahle is twenty-nine, tall, with a stern face and spent the last two years helping Shuri run the Wakandan outreach programs and the six years before that studying foreign policy both abroad and with her own people. Despite her stern appearance she has a very gentle personality, but Shuri has seen her handle some of the rougher characters and foreign officials they sometimes encounter when they visit their center with ease. She will do well in this role, even if she is uncertain.

“Make sure the UN understands our first priority after Wakanda is assistance to our neighbors,” Shuri says. “Uganda has reached out asking for help patrolling the Somali border. Insurgents have already regrouped and are trying to take advantage of lack of border security. We don’t have the manpower to send over our own soldiers but I’ve authorized the use of remote-controlled drones. We won’t be shutting down the open outreach centers but we can no longer afford to open new ones.”

“Yes, Queen Shuri,” Amahle nods. Shuri hands over a datapad.

“Tanzania is also concerned that they won’t be able to harvest their crops in time and we’ll need to coordinate with Egypt and South Africa to begin ensuring the smaller countries are not overlooked. I’ll be sending emissaries to Seychelles, Botswana and Algeria to begin negotiations.

“Donkor Amari and Bandile Pillay will be the ones you want to talk to first,” Shuri continues just as they approached the aircraft. “Everything you need is on that datapad, but do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. T’Yana and Xoliswa will be escorting you.” The two women step forward.

“I will do my best to honorably represent both you and Wakanda,” Amahle says. Shuri reaches out and grabs her shoulder.

“I have the utmost faith in you, Amahle,” she says. “It’s why I picked you, after all.” That gets a small smile out of Amahle and she crosses her arms over her chest. Shuri mimics her and steps back.

“Safe travels, Amahle,” she says and steps back to let her board.

\--

Thanos had kept his word when he said he would wipe out half of all life in the universe. There should have been a sudden surplus of food, too much for them to harvest.

Shuri and M’Baku hover over one of the Wakanda’s larger farms and stare out over the patchwork rice paddy. Shuri had visited it with T’Challa days before the Rogues had shown up at their borders again. The crops had been newly planted, but the harvest would have been plentiful. Workers had carefully moved among the plants, checking for pests.

“He said he was doing this to save the universe from starving, did he not?” Shuri’s voice is bitter. M’Baku stands silently beside her at her shoulder, but she can feel the tension radiating off of him. “That is what Rocket had told us? The Mad Titan was trying to save the universe, but _he accomplished nothing.”_

Her voice has risen near the end and finally M’Baku reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. It’s gentle, warm and reminds her so much of T’Challa that Shuri feels her throat lock up and tears well up.

It takes her a moment to get herself back under control. M’Baku says nothing while she does and Shuri is absurdly grateful. There is no weakness in grief, but this is not the time for her to lose her wits.

“If I may offer some advice,” M’Baku says, his voice careful. They have slowly began to build a relationship of mutual respect, but he is not nearly so frank with her as he was T’Challa. Shuri nods. She’s done her reading since taking the throne and the Jabari have been self-reliant for so long they have had harder times than the other tribes. M’Baku knows how to stretch resources and people in ways Shuri doesn’t.

In Shuri’s mind, it’s another way she’s failing her people. She is a genius, nearly everything had come easily to her, but in so many ways she still falls short.

“The Border Tribe does not have enough people to guard Wakanda’s borders and harvest the crops. The Mining Tribe and Jabari, compared to others, have more survivors. I am willing to send some of people to the borderland to help with the harvest. If you can convince Imaki to send some of her people as well, we can help train them in agriculture. It would allow the Border Tribe to focus on keeping insurgents out.”

“I’ll need to call a counsel,” Shuri murmurs, half to herself and half to M’Baku. It was a sound solution, but Imaki wanted to keep her people close, as if she could somehow protect them that way. Shuri understood the feeling. She cast another long look out over the water before finally navigating the ship back towards the capital.

\--

The world is in tatters. Her country is in tatters. Six months after the Snap and they have finally accounted for all of their missing. Shuri watches solemnly as the last name is inscribed on the memorial wall. Namano was six years old and her favorite animal was the war rhinos. She’d dreamed of being one of their riders someday, despite it being traditionally a male role.

She had slipped under the radar so long because her parents had been separated and both had believed the child to be in the other’s care.

Neither had bothered to check.

It burns Shuri to know this was happening in her own country.

\--

Three years after the Snap, Steve Rogers calls her.

More accurately, he calls T’Challa. Shuri hadn’t been able to bear deactivating T’Challa’s private line. On the longer days, she would sometimes call it, half hoping he would pick up. He never did. After the third time she started leaving messages for him.

_(“I miss you.”_

_“The coronation was today. I didn’t want to be there.”_

_“I don’t think the council will be as boring as you think it is.”_

_“I was wrong. It was torture.”_

_“We found two downed aircrafts near the borders. The only survivors were three children. The oldest is eight.”_

_“Everything is falling apart and I don’t know what to do. I wish you could tell me.”_

_“The children have no family and Sweden won’t come get them. They said they don’t have anywhere to put them. Adamu Mwangi, you know the one who runs the big fruit stall in the main market area, said he and his wife would take them in.”_

_“Why did you leave?! I’m not the one the people want!”_

_“Ndiyakuthanda, mzalwana. Ndinqwena ubelapha.”)_

“Princess?” Captain Rogers sounds slightly unsure, like he’s not sure how to address her. It makes Shuri smile, just a little. He had always been so polite and sincerely earnest around her, a if little awkward. They were not close and she would not call them friends, but she would not lie and say it hadn’t endeared him to her, just a little. “Queen, I mean.”

“Shuri is fine, Captain,” she says gently.

“Steve, then, please,” he replies and is silent long enough Shuri thinks she’ll have to prompt him to start him speaking about whatever it is he called about.

“We think we can reverse the Snap,” Steve finally says and Shuri feels her world _stop._

“What.”

Okoye looks up at her, brow furrowed.

“We’ve been meeting with a sorcerer called Wong, he’s in charge of the Sanctum in New York-” Shuri has no idea what he’s talking about, has no idea what a sanctum in, can’t even really bring herself to feel disbelief over the fact Steve Rogers has apparently gone and found himself a sorcerer, that they’re apparently real, is stuck on those words -

_“We think we can reverse the Snap.”_

“Captain, if this is some kind of joke-” Shuri’s throat clogs up, her breath catching and she can’t finish the thought without wanting to sob.

“No!” Steve’s voice is desperate, loud, almost angry, before it softens. “Never, Queen Shuri.” He sounds like his voice is also catching and Shuri takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The breath he takes sounds just as shaky as her own. “But we think we found something in Tony’s lab that, combined with Wong’s magic, can help us get everyone back.” He breaks off again, steadying himself. Shuri knows the feeling. “But none of us are able to understand Tony’s work and we need help.”

“Alright,” Shuri says, reaching out for Okoye. The older woman steps closer without question, without hesitation and grips her hand tightly. Shuri meets her eyes, takes another breath and says, “Tell me what you’ve got, Steve.”

\--

Jabulani and his acolytes prepare for the anniversary of the Snap.

Shuri stands behind Jabulani, in front of the memorial wall. Little tokens and trinkets and flowers cover the base of the wall, have been appearing ever since the first name was inscribed. Shuri herself had placed a little wooden carving of a war rhino for the little girl who never got the chance to grow into a warrior.

Finally, Jabulani steps to the side and Shuri steps forward. She had not spoken at the last memorial service, too caught up in her own grief to force any words out. No one had held that against her. It had been more perfunctory than anything, to ensure the fallen had made it safely to the afterlife.

Shuri looks out over the crowd of people, severely diminished in number. Some of them are not even Wakandan, stranded until they can make their way back home. They hover near the back, not wanting to intrude, but wanting to pay their respects, perhaps seek some form of closure for their own lost.

“Abantu bam,” she begins. And stops. She has an entire speech planned. She has the notes with her, because she sometimes gets nervous speaking when every eye is fixed on her and she’s not speaking about her projects or the next breakthrough.

The Dora Milaje are lined up along the memorial wall. The tribe leaders are just in front of them, M’Baku almost larger than life nearly at her shoulder on one side, Kaya, small and deceptively frail looking, but with a spine of vibranium at her other. Both have been pillars for Shuri. If she looks to her left, she will see Mandla just past M’Baku and to her right she will see W’Kabi on Kaya’s other side, Imka just past him.

“Abantu bam,” she says again, blinking rapidly down at her notes. She can suddenly barely see them and she abruptly lowers her hand so they’re against her leg. “My people. Three years ago, we suffered a tragedy too great and too terrible to imagine. We lost family, we lost friends, in some ways it seems as though we have lost our entire way of life.”

The crowd is silent. The sun is beating down on them and a bead of sweat rolls its way down the back of her neck.

“But these last few years have shown me something,” she continues. This isn’t on her cards, Shuri couldn’t tell you what they said right now if her life depended on it, but this, she thinks, is what needs to be _said._ Her people has spent the years in mourning, scrabbling to rebuild their home from devastation and it will be years before they can call themselves stable again, but Shuri thinks now is the time to press forward. She knows, bone deep, it is. Captain Rogers has given her hope and Shuri can’t tell her people what is going on, but she can give them hope for a better future.

“They have shown me strength in our people, like I have never seen before. They have shown me _resilience and compassion,_ for each other and for those found unexpectedly in our care _._ You have taught me so much, abantu bam, and I know as Wakanda moves forward, you will show me and teach me so much more. You are my strength, you have been my strength and will continue to be as we move forward, to forge our way into the future and to rise above what would have brought us low.”

Soon, Shuri will leave Wakanda in the hands of the council. She will bring Okoye with her, because the woman will not be left behind. Steve had tried to object, but Shuri is a queen and the Black Panther and has a vendetta on top of that.

She does not have the strength of the heart shaped herb, but she has the strength of her people and the strength of her own will and it has been proven that neither of those can be stripped away by any outside force, not even by a Mad Titan who fancies himself a god.

“Ngethemba kunye namandla, siya phambili.” Shuri’s arms cross over her chest. The crowd echoes the movement. “Wakanda forever!”

Their echoing cry this time, is proud and fierce and echoes loudly enough birds take flight in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations taken from google translate:
> 
> Hayi: No.  
> Ndiyacela: Please.  
> Umama: Mama.  
> Omncinci: Little one.  
> Ndiyakuthanda, mzalwana. Ndinqwena ubelapha: I love you, brother. I wish you were here.  
> Abantu bam: My people.  
> Ngethemba kunye namandla, siya phambili: With hope and strength, we move forward.
> 
> The burial traditions are based on South African burial traditions. Any agricultural information is based on surrounding countries. I don't think Wakanda was given any concrete geographical information so I've placed it directly between Kenya and Ethiopia.


End file.
